Big Brother Sammy
by Tell Her This
Summary: Sammy is four years and eleven days old when his sister is born.
1. Chapter 1

_AN: Hey! This was another one of those 'Conditioning My Hair' ideas, in that it came to mind while I was, you guessed it, conditioning my hair. I hope that you like it. Please let me know what you think._

_Disclaimer: The only Scrubs related things I own are my DVD Boxsets and the DVD player I use to watch them._

_

* * *

_

**Big Brother Sammy**

Sammy is four years and eleven days old when his sister is born.

At breakfast, Mommy told him that when he was sleeping, Daddy phoned to say that Elliot had had the baby – a little girl – and they were going to the hospital to meet her. _Be sure to put your good clothes on_, Mommy had said. _You want to look nice for your new sister._

_

* * *

_

St Vincent's Hospital is a familiar place to Sammy. He went to day care here before he started Pre-K. Still, he holds on to Mommy's hand tightly, because he feels small compared to all the other people walking about here dressed in scrubs of pink and green and blue and he's not sure where he's going. Mommy seems to know though.

When they eventually meet Daddy, Mommy hugs him and says congratulations. Sammy zones out, looking around the maternity ward as Mommy and Daddy talk. (_How's Elliot doing? She's well but exhausted – sleeping now. Thirty hours in labour. Thirty hours? Woman deserves a medal.) _Looking around, it strikes Sammy that this is a happy place. It's light and bright in here and there are pictures of storks painted on the walls. Something tells Sammy that this place is hopeful, although he's not sure why.

"Hey, buddy," Daddy says, making Sammy refocus his attention. When Daddy kneels down to his eyelevel, Sammy notices that Daddy's eyes are red and bloodshot, and his dark hair his ruffled and messy. "Do you want to meet your little sister?" he asks.

Sammy nods, and he feels the excitement and nerves bubbling up in his stomach.

Daddy looks at him and grins. "Come on then."

Mommy hug Sammy and tells him that she'll see him in a little while, and Sammy holds on to Daddy's hand as they walk away, down the placid yellow corridor.

* * *

When they get to the nursery, Daddy lifts Sammy up so he can see through the nursery window. The little plastic cots are lined up neatly in rows, like Sammy's class has to when they go to assembly. Sammy can see lots of babies in there, lots of little people, safely wrapped in pink and blue blankets, but Sammy can't see his sister.

"Which one is she?" Sammy asks.

With the free hand that's not holding him up, Daddy points to a cot three rows back. "That's her, right there."

"Oh." Sammy wonders how Daddy can pick her out so quickly and so definitely, when to him all the babies look the same.

"Do you want to go in to see her?"

Sammy smiles. "Yes, please."

"Okay, great!" Daddy lifts Sammy down on to his own feet. "But when we get in there, we have to be quiet. Some of the babies will be sleeping and if they get disturbed and woken up, they can be cranky and they'll start crying, and we don't want that. Okay?"

"Okay." Sammy follows Daddy around the corner to the nursery door.

* * *

It's quiet inside the nursery, but not silent. Sammy hears the faint, unintelligible baby noises. To Sammy it's like they're having their own conversations in a secret language that only babies can understand. Over in the corner there are two other adults talking to a baby, swaddled in a light blue blanket. Sammy can't hear specifically what they're saying. They must be trying not to wake the other babies too, he thinks.

Daddy leads Sammy carefully in between two rows of cots and sleeping babies. At one particular cot, Daddy stops and tells him to wait there for a second while he gets a chair. When Daddy returns and the chair is put in place next to the cot, Daddy lifts Sammy to sit on his knee. "This," Daddy says, "is your little sister."

From here, Sammy can get a better look at his sister. She's got dark brown hair like Daddy but not like him. He has blond hair. Her face is scrunched up tightly and her eyes are closed. She must be sleeping too.

"What's her name?" Sammy whispers, remembering he has to be quiet because if he isn't then he might wake up his little sister and the other babies.

Daddy smiles, looking down at the baby. "Her name's Cassie. Cassie Alexandria Dorian."

"Cassie," Sammy repeats. "It's pretty."

Like she knows they're talking about her, Cassie opens her eyes. She blinks a few times and seems to look around the room, trying to take in her surroundings. Sammy notices that Cassie's eyes are blue, same as his.

Sammy frowns worriedly and he waits for her to start crying, like Daddy said. "Did I wake her up?" He's going to get in trouble now, he thinks.

Daddy doesn't look angry though. Instead, he's smiling at Cassie. "No, you didn't wake her," he says. "She woke up on her own."

"Oh," Sammy says, trying to hide his relief. "Okay."

For a minute or two, Daddy and Sammy watch Cassie as she stretches her little arm towards the sky and kicks her little legs, dancing to her own rhythm and song. Occasionally she lets out a little noise, like a squeak, as if she's joined in that conversation only the babies can comprehend.

"You can talk to her if you like," Daddy says. "She can hear you."

Looking up at Daddy, his eyes inquisitive, Sammy asks, "What should I say?"

"Whatever you want. Maybe you could just say hello and tell her who you are, what you like. That sort of thing."

Sammy seems to understand. He leans over slightly, so he's closer to his sister. "Hi Cassie," he says softly. "I'm Sammy and, um, I'm your big brother. I'm four years and eleven days old. Um... oh, for my birthday I got a Nintendo DS and a bike. My bike's my favourite thing ever. I can't ride it very well yet though but it's so cool." Sammy tells her about his bike. It's blue with lightning stripes on it. It's so much cooler than Bradley Hannigan's green bike. Then Sammy pauses, and looks away from his sister. "Daddy, can Cassie get a bike too?"

Daddy chuckles a little. "Not until she's a bit older. She needs to get the hang of holding her own head up first."

Sammy has no idea what Daddy's talking about, but he has another question, another thought that crossed his mind when he mentioned his next door neighbour's ugly green bike. "Who is Cassie going to live with?"

"Well, she's going to live with me and Elliot at our house."

The words seem to stay in Sammy's hearing for much longer. "Oh." The response is quiet. So quiet that Sammy's unsure if he even made a noise. He looks down at the ground, away from Daddy and Cassie, and his eyes begin to sting.

Sammy doesn't realise that Daddy's looking at him and not Cassie as the first warm, salty tear runs down his cheeks.

"Sammy," Daddy says. "Why are you crying?"

The little boy hesitates, not sure if he should even ask his question. "Do you love Cassie more than me?" he asks, not moving his eyes from their fixed stare on the floor tiles.

"No, of course not," Daddy answers quickly, no delay. "Why would you think that?"

"You're my Daddy and you don't live with me." That's the way it's always been. He lives with Mommy and Sean in one house, and Daddy lives with Elliot in another house. Sammy goes to Daddy's after school some days, and he stays over there every second weekend. But will Daddy still want to be Sammy's Daddy if he's Cassie's Daddy now and Cassie lives with Daddy and he doesn't?

Daddy lifts Sammy up slightly and spins him around so he's facing Daddy. But Sammy doesn't look at Daddy as he's being hugged tightly, a bear hug that's meant to make him feel better but just makes him feel more upset.

Daddy sighs before he speaks. "I know it's strange that I don't live with you and I know don't understand right now, but I promise you will when you're older." Daddy frowns, noticing Sammy's distant gaze. "Sammy, look at me," he coaxes.

It takes Sammy a few seconds before he decides to respond, and lifts his sad eyes to meet Daddy's reassuring ones.

"Just because I don't live with you all the time doesn't mean I love you any less," Daddy says. "And it certainly does not mean I love Cassie than you. I don't. I'm just as much your Dad as I am hers, even if I don't live with you all the time. Nothing's ever going to change that. You hear me? Nothing in the world?"

Daddy's smiling, but Sammy isn't. Not just yet.

"You promise?" Sammy asks.

Daddy holds out his finger. "I'll even pinkie promise it."

Sammy's smiling now, because a pinkie promise is really special and won't be broken. Ever.

"You know, I only live a couple of streets away from you," Daddy says. "You can come round to visit or stay any time you want."

Sammy's smile changes into a grin. "Really?"

"Yeah," Daddy replies. "You can come round for dinner or we could go to the park or the bowling alley or the batting cages, although that last one the least favourable option. But I'll take you if you want to go. And hey, I'm going to need your help when Cassie and Elliot gang up on me with all their girl power nonsense. We can't let the girls win now, can we?"

Sammy shakes his head resolutely.

"Although in a few years, it'll be you and Cassie ganging up on _me,_ won't it?"

Cassie makes a gurgling noise that almost sounds like a laugh, like she's saying a sassy 'Yeah, we are.'

Daddy's laughing. It's quiet, but he's laughing undeniably. "I see you two are making a good team already."

Sammy looks down at his little sister and it seems like she's looking at him too. _Good team,_ he thinks. _I like the sound of that._

_

* * *

_

_AN2: I hope you enjoyed this chapter. There are two options now. I could leave it as a one-shot, or (and this is the option I'm rooting for) I can continue this, showing snippets of Sammy's relationship with his sister. So, opinions please. Let me know if you'd read it, should I continue. Thanks guys. :)_


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Hey guys! Thanks for all the reviews you left me for the last chapter. They were very greatly appreciated. :) This is the next chapter. I hope you enjoy it. **

* * *

Sammy had first noticed something was wrong one lunchtime a few weeks ago. He had walked into the school lunch hall and seen Cassie sitting at a table in the corner on her own. Save me a seat, he'd said to his school friends before walking across the hall to where she was sitting.

'Hey, Cass,' he had said to her, as he took a seat at the table. 'Where are your friends?'

'Field trip,' she had replied glumly. It was out of character for her. Cassie was normally so happy.

'Why aren't you eating any lunch?'

'I'm not hungry,' Cassie answered, and then she slumped out of her seat before walking out of the lunch hall.

He'd gone to Dad's that night for dinner too, straight after school. The usual questions were asked. How was school? Did you learn anything interesting? What did you eat for lunch?

Sammy had noticed how Cassie had shifted uncomfortably in her seat and looked down at the table before making up a story about the lentil soup she'd eaten and the friends she'd sat with. When Dad and Elliot weren't looking, he'd glanced questioningly at his sister, only to be answered with a glare that was an explicit "Shut up."

* * *

Since then, Sammy had been keeping an extra clandestine eye on Cassie when they were around the school. The occasions where Cassie ate no lunch were becoming more frequent. Any time he would ask her about it, she'd just say that she wasn't hungry, but when Sammy looked back round she was unswervingly feasting on the sandwich or apple or chocolate bar he'd left there for her.

But Cassie's not in the lunch hall today. It strikes Sammy as strange because even when she's not eating lunch, she still sits in the lunch hall with her friends, more often than not at the same table. Sammy watches for her walking in for a few more minutes, before becoming really concerned. He tells his friends that he'll be back in a few minutes before walking over to the table where the first-graders sit.

"Hey," he says to them. He doesn't need to introduce himself. They all know he's Cassie's brother. "Do you know where Cassie is?" He asks them.

It's Cassie's best friend Laura who answers. "She went outside. She said she'd be back in a minute."

Sammy thanks her before heading in the direction of the door.

He walks around the playground, looking for his sister. The playground is busy, filled with kids playing catch or tag or some other games. Cassie isn't a participant in any of them. He walks around the corner, away from the swings, to the back to the school. Nobody ever goes there, Sammy thinks, but he can hear noises. There's taunting cackling from a couple of boys, and someone else – a girl – telling them to leave her alone.

It's Cassie.

Give us your lunch money, the boys are saying to her, and Cassie's strange behaviour over the last few weeks begins to make sense in Sammy's head.

Cassie hasn't been eating her lunch, not because she isn't hungry, but because they've been stealing her lunch money. And she hasn't told Dad or Elliot about it, because they'd go straight to the school to complain to the principal and that would only make things worse for Cassie. Sammy wonders for a second why he hadn't connected the dots before.

The boys picking on Cassie are shoving her back and forth like a yo-yo. Cassie's trying to fight back, trying to stick up for herself, but she's only a 6-year-old first grader, and the fourth-grade boys tower over her.

Sammy has always been taught that hitting people is wrong. You shouldn't hit people, and you definitely shouldn't hit someone younger or smaller than you.

Cassie's shoved to the ground, ripping holes at the knees of her school tights, and Sammy notices that it's only now that she starts to cry.

The boys are laughing viciously at his baby sister sitting on the ground crying, her knees scraped and bleeding, when Sammy walks up behind the bigger of the two bullies and taps him on the shoulder. The boy spins around, still guffawing rancorously, only to be greeted by a fist connecting with his nose. Hard.

Sammy knuckles sting as one fourth-grader staggers back and the other one stands, jaw dropped, looking at his accomplice whose hand is shielding his nose from another whack.

"What?" Sammy angrily asks. "You think you're tough pushing a first grade girl around? Why don't you try picking on someone your own size? Oh, and if you ever go near my sister again, I will punch you again and it'll be twice as hard."

The fourth graders stare at him dumbfounded.

"You want to see if I'm kidding?"

The boys scurry off, and Sammy goes over to his sister.

Cassie's not crying anymore, but the tears she did cry have left streaks down her pale cheeks. She's looking at him, wide-eyed with shock.

"You okay?" Sammy asks Cassie, holding out a hand to help her up.

"I guess," she replies, accepting Sammy's offer of help to get up. She dusts herself off and it's only then she notices the extent of the tears in her tights. "Mom and Dad are going to be so mad."

"No they won't," Sammy responds. "Just tell them what happened, they'll understand. They'll wish you'd told them sooner though."

"I wanted to! But they said that if I told on them they'd make it worse."

"If they go near you again, tell me, okay?"

Cassie nods. And then she hugs him. "Thank you Sammy."

* * *

The next few weeks Sammy keeps his eye on Cassie around school, paying attention to her attendance in the lunch hall and more importantly the presence of lunch in front of her. She's been in the hall every day since then, with lunch and with her friends.

After that day, Cassie had gone home and told Dad and Elliot about the bullying and the stolen lunch money. They'd gone to the principal the next morning, and the two boys got kicked out on account of other people could vouch that they had been bullying Cassie for weeks, and there were several complaints about them bullying other kids.

Sammy got a written warning on account of the black eye the boy he punched sustained.

As usual, Sammy watches for Cassie to walk into the lunch hall. He smiles when he sees her take a seat with her other first grade friends at their usual table. Cassie sees him watching her and waves at him. He waves back.


	3. Chapter 3

_AN: Hey! Thanks for all the reviews! I really appreciate them. Hope you enjoy this chapter. :)_

* * *

Sammy's eleven and Cassie's seven.

Tomorrow morning they're going on vacation to Orlando in Florida and they're so excited. Like, really excited. Or, as Dad described it earlier, bouncing off the ceilings excited.

It's nearly 10pm and, by all accounts, they should both be falling asleep right now, both of them waking up this morning at Crazy O'Clock (another one of Dad's terms), excited because they're going on vacation the next day. But they're both wide awake, sitting at the kitchen table. They're both dressed in their PJs. Elliot thought that might somehow trick the kids into feeling tired. It hasn't.

Dad's gone out the supermarket. He says he's going to get some treats and food for on the plane. Plane food's expensive, he says. Elliot's sitting at the table with them, drinking hot milk like they are.

"Mooooom," Cassie says, looking down at her mug of hot milk.

"Yes, Cassie?" Elliot responds, almost reluctantly. She knows what ahe's about to be asked.

"When we go on vacation tomorrow, are we going to go to Disneyland?"

Elliot rolls her eyes. "Yes, Cassie, we _are_ going to go to Disneyland."

"Elliooooot?"

"Yes, Sammy?" Elliot answers in the same tone as she answered Cassie in, and looks at him.

"Are we going to go to Universal Studios?"

Elliot sighs. "Yes, Sammy, we are going to Universal Studios. And before either one of you asks _again_, we are also going to Sea World, Busch Gardens, _and_ the Kennedy Space Centre."

The two kids grin and high-five each other. Elliot laughs a little.

"But Moooooom?"

"Yes¸Cassie?"

"Aren't you excited too?"

Elliot relaxes a little and grins at the two kids."Yes, I'm very excited too. But you two should be going to bed."

Sammy and Cassie look at her, shocked."But Mooooooooom!" they protest.

"No buts," Elliot says. "We're all up very early tomorrow morning and you two don't want to be cranky on the first day of vacation. Do you?"

"No," the siblings answer simultaneously.

"Okay then. Come on, I'll tuck you both in. Just think, the sooner you get to sleep, the sooner you'll wake up and we'll be going on vacation." 

* * *

Sammy's still awake. The red LED lights of the clock tell him that it's eleven minutes to midnight. It's eleven minutes until they're going on holiday today. But he can't sleep. He's trying, he really is, but nothing's working. He's tried reading his book – Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone. Dad gave him it for reading on the plane tomorrow – today in eight minutes - but Sammy thought it might help him get to sleep if he started reading it tonight. It didn't. It got exciting and made Sammy more awake. He tried counting sheep, but when he'd counted 74 sheep and he still didn't feel tired he decided to give up with that idea. And willing himself to sleep doesn't seem to work either.

Sammy's so bored. The minutes pass by so slowly. Every time he thinks an hour has gone by, he glances as the clock and it's only a few minutes later.

His bedroom door creaks open, and Sammy quickly pretends to be asleep, thinking it Dad or Elliot checking on him.

"Sammy?"

He sits up in his bed, surprised by the voice. "Cassie?"

"I can't sleep," she says, walking towards his bed.

"Me neither," he answers. "I'm too excited. I want to be in Florida now."

"Me too. I'm so bored," Cassie frowns. "It's like time's going sooooooooooooooo slooooooooooooooooooooooowly. I'm so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so bored. I wanna make time go quicker."

"Me too," Sammy sighs. "Hey, I have an idea," he tells her quietly and craftily. "Do you want to go downstairs and watch Shrek again?"

"Well, yeah," she answers. "But we can't. They'll hear us going downstairs and we'll get in trouble." Cassie tilts her head back in the direction of her parents' room.

A mischievous smile creeps over Sammy's face. "Come on," he says, as he climbs out of his bed. "It'll be fun."

* * *

The living room is a mess with suitcases and plane bags and all the other things to go on vacation with. Still, neither child switches on a light. If they switch the living room light, Dad or Elliot might notice and catch them downstairs and send them back to their rooms. Then they'd be back to square one: wide awake, not able to fall asleep, waiting for morning to arrive.

Without any verbal communication between them, both Sammy and Cassie seem to know what's going to happen. Sammy sets up the DVD player and Cassie goes about finding the TV remote to turn down the volume. They'll get caught if they keep the volume too high.

The film begins, and time – miraculously – begins to fly. But as the children laugh the adventures of the Scottish ogre and his donkey companion, they forget that they were trying not to get caught.

That is, until the room becomes suddenly brighter as the living room light switches on.

"Sam and Cassie Dorian, what do you think you're doing?" Dad says.

Sammy and Cassie glance at each other nervously, before turning further around to see both their parents standing at the living room door, arms folded and scowling at them.

They're in trouble now.

"Neither of us could sleep," Cassie answers meekly.

Sammy nods, and looks up at the adults apologetically. "Yeah, and we were bored so we came down here."

"Are you going to make us go back upstairs?"

"That depends," says Elliot, still with the serious, authoritative look on her face. "Are you going to let us watch Shrek too?"

Sammy and Cassie once again glance at each other before nodding.

"Okay then," Dad says, and in that instant the punishing looks disappear from the parents' faces.

The parents take a seat on the couch beside the kids and watch the movie.

* * *

The suitcases have been squashed into the trunk of the car and they're all in the car, on the way to the airport.

Surprisingly, they're all wide awake and nobody has been cranky, despite them all getting less than four hours sleep. Dad puts it down to excitement. Elliot says they'll all sleep on the plane. It's a six-hour flight down there. Plenty of time for sleep.

Dad put a CD in the car stereo when they left. The first song starts playing, and the kids immediately recognise the opening piano melody.

"Dad, turn it up!" Sammy shouts excitedly from the back seat.

Dad obliges, and with a few seconds before the singer comes in, he says to the kids, "Do me proud." Dad even sings the first line. _"Just a small town girl..."_

"_Living in a lonely world,"_ Cassie and Sammy respond, singing even louder than Dad did. "_She took the midnight train going anywhere."_

Sammy and Cassie sing along to the song. They know all the words. Dad's been playing this song to them since they were hours old. That's what Dad says anyway, but they can't remember that. But they've known this song for as long as they can remember.

Still, Dad and Elliot are laughing hysterically at Sammy and Cassie as they sing loudly and proudly along to _Don't Stop Believin'_, albeit occasionally out of time and out of tune. They all say that Cassie inherited her mom's singing ability. But the correct tune – or the lack of it – isn't important, because they're singing freely and happily and without a care in the world.

They're just being kids.

_"Don't stop believing, hold on to that feeling. Streetlight people."_  
_  
_The song finishes, but Dad and Elliot are still laughing hysterically in the front of the car.

"What's so funny?" Cassie asks.

Still through laughter, Dad and Elliot reply at the same time. "Nothing!"

* * *

_Disclaimer: I don't own, like, _anything_ mentioned in this chapter. It depresses me. :(_


	4. Chapter 4

__

_AN: Thanks again for all the positive reviews you've been leaving for me! They make me smile. I hope you enjoy this chapter._

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Except the USB drive I have this story and everything else I write stored on. Thank you, little USB pen drive, for your magical talents as a storage device, meaning I can still write and update on another computer when my laptop throws a temper tantrum. Thank you, little purple USB device. You really are a great friend.

Hope you like!

* * *

Mom and Dad are away for the weekend to a medical conference in Idaho. They left two instructions. Instruction one: No pissing off the neighbours with loud music (_Cassie, we're looking at you_.) And instruction two: No parties. _We don't really need to warn you_, they'd said. _We trust you two._

* * *

Cassie can hear the loud music coming from their house as she walks up the street. And considering she's been out all day at the bowling alley with her friends, she's sure as hell not the one pissing off the neighbours today. Closer to the house she can hear more noise – more talking, laughing and singing to be precise. Yep, there's a party going in the house.

Walking into the house, Cassie is confirmed correct. Pretty much all of the high school seniors – Sammy's classmates – are in their house. And there are more people Cassie doesn't recognise. The living room is a complete mess with food and drink and glasses and bottles strewn everywhere.

Cassie carefully makes her way through the living room towards the kitchen where she finds Sammy, beer bottle in his hand.

"Mom and Dad said no parties," she says to him, shouting to ensure he hears her over the blaring music - something their parents also warned against. "You realise you're gonna get killed if they find out about this, right?"

Sammy gives an exaggerated drunken shrug."Relax, Cass. They're not going find out. I'm gonna clean all this up tomorrow before they get hoooooooooooome." The eighteen-year-old slurs. "Unless you're gonna tell them. Tattle tale. Tattle tale Cassie." He laughs inordinately at the (rather lame, according to its bearer) name. "That's you're new nickname from now on, mmkay?"

"You're so hammered," Cassie tells him matter-of-factly, shaking her head in some weird mix of astonishment and disbelief. She's never seen her brother drunk before. He's normally so straight-laced and serious. "They're going to kill you, y'know. Like actually kill you. You're going to be actually dead."

Another shrug comes from Sammy's shoulders, although not as confidently as the previous action.

After another quick look into the living room, Cassie asks the question she's not sure she really wants to know the answer to. "Who the hell are all of these people, by the way?"

Sammy grimaces. "I have no idea. See, I invited Smithy, Austin and Travis round. And then they invited some more guys from school who invited some more guys from school who invited some more guys from school. And then Smithy invited his cousin who invited his friends who invited their friends who invited –"

"I get it," I'm going to my room. Tell your friends to stay out or I'm gonna throw things at them." Cassie begins to make her way back out of the kitchen, but she turns back. "By the way, if Mom and Dad call again, I'm not lying to them."

"Whatever..."

* * *

The next morning Cassie waits until 10am before daring to go downstairs, and when she sees what's downstairs she's glad she did.

It 's difficult to see any carpet for the amount of rubbish that has been left from Sammy's party, and the whole downstairs of the house is stinking of booze and sweat and god knows what else. Old discarded biscuits and potato chips crunch under her feet and on the few bits of carpet that are actually viewable, spilled drink stains are obvious.

Cassie walks into the living room and sees her brother sitting on a couch, staring vacantly ahead of him. "Holy bombsite, Batman," she says quietly, still taking in the destruction in front of her.

Sammy nods, then instantly grimaces in pain. "Ow."

"Hangover?"

Sammy answers verbally this time, learning from his previous mistake. "Yeah," is the croaked reply. "I am so dead."

"Pretty much. What time did everyone leave at?"

"Four."

Eyebrows raised, Cassie mutters a quiet "Wow."

"What time does their flight get in?"

"Six thirty."

Glancing tentatively up at the clock (even moving his eyes hurt) Sammy frowns. "Damn. There's no way I'll get this cleaned up before then. "

"Yeah, you will," Cassie sighs heavily. This is so not how she wanted to spend her Sunday. But Sammy needs bailed out right now, and anytime Cassie's been on the verge of trouble, Sammy's always been there for her. "I'll help," she says. "Come on."

* * *

An hour into Operation Clean Up The House So The Parents Don't Find Out That There Was A Party And Subsequently Murder Sammy, the target of potential murder is flailing. He's lying on one of the couches – the same one he was sitting on before the start of this mission impossible – because standing is too painful. It feels like someone's beating him over the head with a giant sledgehammer while at the same time is brain is trying to smash its own way out of his skull to get revenge on that sledgehammer. His throat feels like somebody has poured battery acid down it, and the contents of his stomach are gyrating like they're on the Waltzers at the carnival. Sammy genuinely wouldn't complain if someone shot him in the head right now.

Cassie emerges from the kitchen, a pair of Mom's bright yellow waterproof gloves for washing the dishes donning her hands. God only know what kinds of bacteria now laced the floors and the countertops and every other surface in the house, and the anti-bacterial cleaner that Mom always buys stings the skin like fire. She walks over to the couch that her brother's lying on.

"Dude," Cassie says, looking at her brother's pallid complexion. "You look deceased. You're like the living fricking dead."

"Mhmm," was the terse response. "I feel like I'm dying."

"You look it."

"Sleep. I need it. But also need to clean. It's a problem. Cass, if I went to sleep in my room, would you wake me up in, like, an hour?"

Cassie makes a musing sound. "As much as I'm enjoying watching you suffer, if you don't sleep it off a bit, they're going to take one look at you and kill you. Go."

"Thanks, Cass." Sammy begins to tentatively out of the living room but pauses, a hand firmly placed on the doorframe frame for stability. "By the way, the first time you have a hangover, I reserve the right to mock you."

The younger sibling scoffs mockingly. "Whatever."

* * *

Sammy is surprised when he awakens of his own volition and not because of cold water being poured over him or loud music or a klaxon at his ear like he would've expected from his little sister who earlier was taking great delight in his suffering. He doesn't blame her. Well, what would be the point of being siblings if there wasn't some kind of slightly sadistic sibling rivalry to enjoy? Don't get Cassie wrong. If Sammy had been suffering like this through something not of his own doing, she wouldn't have been laughing at him in any way. And it isn't as if she can't take what she dishes out.

Regardless of his easy awakening the hour's sleep has done Sammy the world of good. Although he still feels woozy, his thumping headache has subsided and the nausea inducing twisting and turning of his stomach gone. He feels ready to continue with clearing up the mess he's left Cassie to clean downstairs

Looking around his room, Sammy's eyes meet the clock on his nightstand that reads 5.30pm. 5.30? It was just after 11am when he came up here to sleep. 5.30? Shit. Dad and Elliot's flight is due to arrive in an hour and it won't take them long to get home from the airport. He's left Cassie downstairs to clean up all his mess on her own. Crap. She is going to be so pissed off. Never mind Dad and Elliot killing him for nearly wrecking the house, Cassie'll be the one to terminate his existence.

Sammy rushes out of his bedroom and down the stairs, nearly losing his footing and travelling down them like Superman several times. But he stops abruptly when he runs into the living room.

Instead of walking towards him with a kitchen knife firmly gripped in her hand (or something equally as portentous) like Sammy has been preparing himself for, Cassie is sitting calmly on the couch, her feet up, reading a book. Even more remarkably, the living room was clean. Really clean. All traces of the destruction that had been there when he went upstairs to sleep are gone.

Sammy stand there in the door way, jaw dropped in amazement.

Cassie doesn't look up from the book she's reading but she knows he's there. "You owe me one," she says.

* * *

Dad and Elliot eventually arrive home from the airport shortly after seven. They waste no time in telling the kids that they're not cooking dinner tonight. After all day travelling? Screw that. They'll get Chinese takeaway.

The food arrives quickly and they gather round the table while Dad and Elliot tell them about everything that happened at the conference – the different doctors they met, the different theories and new medications and equipment that are being trialled.

And at some point in the family dinner, Elliot gets up from the table to fetch a bottle of wine.

"That's odd," they hear Elliot say, just after the fridge is opened.

"What is?" Dad asks her, as she walks back into the room with a perplexed look on her face.

"When we left there was a bottle of red wine in the refrigerator. And now there's not," she says, look over at the teenagers.

The panic begins to bubble in Sammy's stomach and the familiar nausea from this morning quickly returns. Crap crap crap. Why hadn't he thought of that? Of course people would've raided the fridge looking for alcohol. And of course Dad and Elliot would notice if a bottle of wine went missing from the fridge.

They're going to figure him out. They're going to see right through him. Sammy tries to keep it together the best he can, tries to hide any trace of guilt from his face.

"That's my fault," Cassie tells their parents, cool as a cucumber. "I was looking for something in that shelf of the fridge so I took the bottle of wine out and I went to put it on the bunker beside the fridge, but I wasn't looking and I let go of it without checking I'd actually put it on the bunker. It fell and smashed on the floor." She looks up at the adults apologetically. "Sorry."

This is the only moment in his life that Sammy has been thankful for his younger sister's clumsiness.

"Don't worry about it," Elliot says, smiling at her daughter and going on to tell them about a similar mishap she had as a teenager with her mother's bottle of gin.

The conversation returns to the events of that medical conference, and like that the scare's gone. Dad and Elliot are none the wiser.

While Dad and Elliot aren't looking, Sammy silently mouths to Cassie 'Thank you."

Cassie smiles back at him, her own 'You're welcome.'


	5. Chapter 5

_AN: Hey guys! Thank you very much for the reviews. I really really do appreciate knowing what you think of my writing. Hope you like this one. :)_

* * *

Textbooks cradled reluctantly in her arms, Cassie walks down the stairs ready to begin another study session. Seems like all she does is study.

Sammy's already in the living room. "So, I'll pick you up around seven and we'll go to Serendipity. That okay with you?" He says into his cell phone.

Cassie watches as Sammy walks back and forth in the living room while he has his conversation. Serendipity is a popular fancy restaurant in the city. As popular as it is, it's expensive – the kind of place you go for an important celebration or when you're trying to impress someone.

She guesses the latter is the case here.

"Okay, I'll see you then." Sammy hangs up the phone and stands there with a satisfied smile on his face.

"Who're you taking out to dinner?" Cassie asks him, as she makes her way over to the table.

Sammy obviously hesitates before answering. "Izzie."

The dark haired eighteen-year-old takes a pause from organising her textbooks to look up at her brother. "Izzie?" she repeats. "As in Izzie Turk?"

"Yeah."

Cassie chuckles to herself. "Do, uh, do Dad and Turk know you and Izzie are dating? Because they are going to _love _that.

"...we're not dating," Sammy said nervously and completely unconvincingly.

Cassie raises a sarcastic eyebrow. "Uh-huh."

"We're not."

"Sure," Cassie responds as she sits down at the table.

"You don't believe me, do you?"

"Nope."

"Fine." Sammy begins to walk out of the living room, but he's interrupted by a version of a rhyme he hasn't heard since middle school.

"Sammy and Izzie sitting in a tree. K-I-S-S-I-N-G."

"What are you, six?" He sarcastically asks Cassie. "Why are you doing that?"

Cassie grins. "'Cause it's fun." 

* * *

A few weeks later, Cassie is studying in her room. Again. She thinks that organic chemistry is really taking some kind of perverse pleasure in kicking her ass. After four hours of studying, a break is well deserved, and required if her sanity is to remain intact.

As she walks downstairs, Cassie hears a slight scramble coming from the living room. She walks in and sees Sammy and Izzie sitting on separate couches.

"What're you guys doing?" Cassie's not stupid. She knows that could potentially have been a dangerous question. But how they answer it (because there's no way in hell they're going to tell the truth) will be interesting.

"Talking," both of them answer, suddenly and urgently.

"Uh-huh," Cassie replies. "What about?"

"Television."

"Uh-huh. Be more vague," the younger Dorian says sarcastically. "Okay, I'm going for a walk before a certain organic chem. textbook gets thrown out of my bedroom window and I owe Mom and Dad for the repair. I'll be back in half an hour. You two go back to... whatever it was you were doing."

Goodbyes are said, and Cassie walks out the house. Except she doesn't go anyway once she's outside, but stands at the door.

"One Mississippi. Two Mississippi. Three Mississippi. Four Mississippi. Five Mississippi."

Cassie becomes a master of stealth. She takes her shoes off before she opens the front door and walks back into her house. Quietly, she tiptoes back through their hall and opens the living room door where – just as Cassie would've predicted – Sammy and Izzie are on the same couch and, guess what, they're making out. And they haven't noticed the living room door opening and someone walking back in.

"Unbelievable," Cassie mutters before slamming the living room shut, causing Sammy and Izzie to almost have fright-induced heart attacks and glare in Cassie's direction.

"What the hell, Cassie?" Sammy yells.

"So this is what you two call 'not dating'? And I hate to use the ultimate clichéd phrase for this situation, but please," Cassie says, "get a room."

"Wow," Izzie deadpans, glaring at Cassie. "I forgot how unfunny your sister was, Sam."

Sammy scowls at Cassie. "I hadn't."

Cassie tosses him an equally sarcastic glower. "So, do the fathers know about this?"

"No," Izzie answers.

"And we'd like to keep it that way for now," Sammy adds. "You can keep a secret, right?"

"Of course," Cassie answers. "Okay, I am actually going now. But one more question: Can I please be there when you two inform your fathers of this? Because their reactions are going to be priceless!"

Both Sammy and Izzie roll their eyes. "Yes," they simultaneously reply.

"Thanks. " Cassie begins to walk out of the living room again, but she stops and turns around. "Oh, just a warning: Mom's coming home at two. You might want to be_ actually_ talking about television by then."

After the pair begrudgingly thanks her for the warning, Cassie makes her way out of the living room and the house, smiling to herself. 

* * *

A few weeks ago, now in her final year of college, Cassie had been surprised when Sammy had called her to ask when he could visit her at the campus. Apparently, he has something to tell her.

So now she's sitting in the Coffee Bucks that she – in some slightly disturbing way – has come to think of as her third home at her usual table, waiting on her brother. And Izzie, too, because Sammy never goes anywhere without Izzie now. The two of them have honest-to-god been inseparable the last four years. They stayed together all through med school, for goodness sakes.

Dad and Turk did eventually find out that Sam and Izzie were together. It made for an interesting Christmas dinner. Dad and Turk were so excited that Dad nearly passed out. Twice. Apparently they'd been rooting for Sammy and Izzie to get together since they were zygotes. However, they were none too pleased when they found out that Cassie had known about it for five months already. Some red wine was spilt, Cassie was melodramatically lectured about the importance of families not keeping secrets from each other and Mom yelled at Dad all the way home in the car for ruining her new shirt.

Cassie's earlier assumption is found to be wrong, as Sammy walks into the Coffee Bucks alone, noticing her within a few seconds.

He hugs her hello before sitting down.

"Where's Iz?" Cassie asks him.

"She's visiting her aunts in Chicago," Sammy answers. "Anyway, I needed to talk to you without her there.

Cassie tenses and furrows her brows, giving her brother a serious look. "...okay."

"I need to run something by you," he says. "So you know how me and Izzie have been together for four years now, right?"

"Yeah..." Cassie answers, confusion clear in her voice.

"Well..." Sammy pauses, nervous of his sister's reaction. Screw it. She's going to react. May as well get it over with, like ripping off the band aid. "I'm gonna ask her to marry me."

Cassie almost starts to laugh thinking he's kidding, but then she looks at Sammy. "Oh my god, you're serious?" She asks, the words leaving her mouth so quickly they almost roll into one.

Sammy nods.

"You're _serious_ serious?"

"What other kind of serious is there?"

"Shut. Up. You're _actually_ going to ask Izzie to marry you?"

"Pretty much."

"Holy crap, my big brother's getting married." Again, with the worlds rolling into one.

"Maybe. She still needs to say yes," Sammy says, real nerves present in his voice for the first time in this conversation..

"You really think she's going to say no?" Cassie replies quickly. "Come on. She loves you. You love her. You've been together for year. You're Sam and Izzie for god sakes. Of course she's gonna say yes."

"You think?"

"Yeah," Cassie answers. "You know, I've always wanted a sister."

"Yeah, it's not all it's cracked up to be."

"Hey, you shit!" Cassie protests, tossing a rolled up napkin at him.

"Just kidding."

"So... have you told anyone else about this?"

"Not a soul," Sammy answers. "I was going to ask for Turk's permission, but –"

"There's no way in hell he wouldn't tell Dad you'd spoke to him five minutes later," Cassie says. "And Dad would tell Mom who would tell Carla or, probably inadvertently, would tell Izzie and bam, surprise ruined. So why are you telling me?"

"You're the only one who can keep a secret."

"That is true," Cassie concedes. "But this time, please don't tell Dad I already knew about it. I don't want the lecture again and I'm pretty sure Mom'll kill him he ruins another one of her shirts with a red wine spill."

Sammy grimaces, his mind going back to that Christmas dinner four years ago. "Nobody wants that again..."

* * *

A few days later, Cassie is once again cramming for finals. Good god, she can't wait until they're over. Of course then it's only a few weeks until she starts medical school and she's back into the hard work again. Why is she choosing to do this again? Oh right. She's a giant nerd. True story.

A loud rattle fills the room as her cell phone vibrates against the surface of her nightstand, signalling an incoming message. Cassie checks it immediately.

_She said yes._

* * *

AN2: You know, part of me really wants to write that Christmas dinner...


	6. Chapter 6

**AN: I apologise for the delay in this chapter. I am back on track now, and I even have the next two (and final two!) chapters mostly completed, except for some editing. I should be able to update next Wednesday, but don't hold me to that.**

Anyway, on to the next chapter. I'll be honest, this isn't my favourite chapter, Something didn't quite click for me. I hope you like it though.

* * *

Sammy really doesn't want to be the one to have to do this.

He dials Cassie's cell phone number and with each ring, any determination he had developed about being the one to tell her drops off a steep cliff and he wishes he had taken up Turk's offer of calling. Sammy almost hits the 'End Call' button, but the monotonous ringing has been replaced by the sound of muffled music and chatter and laughter.

Sammy remembers Cassie talking about a surprise birthday party they were organising for one of her med school classmate.

"Hello?" Cassie says loudly – almost shouting – struggling to hear herself speak over the loud music playing in the background.

"Cass, it's me."

"Sammy? Hold on, I'll go outside."

Sammy waits nervously for Cassie to return to the phone. The music volume dissipates and Cassie responds to someone's offer of another drink. Kahlua and Coke, Cassie tells them, and she'll get the next round.

He can hear Cassie's high heels clicking against the concrete.

"Jeez, it's cold," she mumbles to herself before she returns to the phone call. "Sammy, what's up?" She's starting this conversation like she would any other.

"Cass..." He trails off because in this second if he keeps talking he's going to lose it and he can't do that yet.

"Sammy, you okay?"

He doesn't respond.

"You there Sammy?"

He still can't answer.

"What's wrong? Sammy, answer me. You're freaking me out." There's an increasing concern with every question. "Sam, what's going on?"

"Dad died."

* * *

Myocardial infarction. Heart attack.

The words swirl around Cassie's head. She knows the symptoms, the physiology, the stages. She knows all the theory. But it's something that happens to someone else.

She hasn't cried yet. She hasn't cried because it doesn't happen to her dad. Not her Dad who's the picture of health, never been sick in his life. Not her Dad who told her three days ago that he's got his suit picked out for her graduation next month.

Dad's too young to die, she thinks.

But then she remembers that her grandfather dies of a massive heart attack when he wasn't much older than Dad is. Was. And Dad had a stressful job. But so do a lot of people and she hasn't seen any of them dying from heart attacks lately.

Cassie's thoughts are interrupted by the alarm to signal the ignition of the baggage carousel. She's in the airport.

She's walking through to Arrivals. Because Dad's dead.

She's walking towards Sammy who has come to pick her up, even though it's nearing midnight.

"Dad died," she says to him. It's somehow both a question and a statement.

Sammy nods and that's all it takes for Cassie to cry. Sammy wraps an arm around his sister in a hug as the tears running down her face turn into full blown sobs causing her to shake so violently Sammy's worried she might actually fall over.

"It's going to be okay," he tells her and Sammy knows immediately that it's the most futile thing he's ever said. Nothing about this is going to be 'okay' – Dad's dead. But Cassie's his baby sister and he has to say something to her, even if he doesn't believe it himself.

* * *

Dad's funeral is held a week later.

Sammy isn't sure how to describe it. How do you assign adjectives to your own father's funeral? But he thinks that if Dad had been asked to plan his own funeral, he would've planned what happened today with the huge turnout and the favourite songs that were played – Sammy and Cassie couldn't decide whether to laugh or cry when _Don't Stop Believin' _was played – and all the nice things that were said.

He left the wake about half an hour ago. He needed some air. He needed some space. He needed not to be around everyone else when he cried.

He knows he should go back soon. He's not ready yet though. So he stays here, sitting on the grass underneath a tree.

"I thought I'd find you here."

Sammy looks round to see Cassie walking towards him. She's clad in a black dress – the colour not suiting her. She looks tired and lost, but then again, so do they all.

"How'd you know?"

"I'd eyed up this place in case I wanted to make a run for it. Here," she says, talking a seat beside him. "I brought you a slice of the cake Uncle Dan brought."

That brings a small smile to Sammy's face. "Ah yes. Some families send their condolences with flowers and cards. We do it with cake."

"I like our thing. At least ours tastes delicious. Just wish somebody didn't have to die first though," Cassie says quietly. "Izzie's really worried about you, you know. Thinks you might be jumping off a bridge or something."

"I'm going back in a minute," Sammy answers. "I just... I can't believe Dad's gone."

"Me neither. It's not right. Dad shouldn't be gone. "

"Can you remember the last thing you said to Dad?"

Cassie shakes her head. "I remember when I last spoke to him. I remember I was trying to make dinner at the same time, and I remember at one point we were talking about my graduation. But I can't remember what the last thing I said to him was. "

"I told him I'd call him back the next day, and forgot because I got stuck working an extra shift and I was exhausted when I got home. Then Turk called to say Dad was in the hospital."

"This is going to haunt us forever, isn't it?"

"I think so," Sammy frowns. "You remember Dad used to teach us all those old songs he listened to? _Don't Stop Believing."_," Cassie adds. "You remember he taught us _Monster Mash?"_"Oh my god," Sammy says, shaking his head with incredulity at the memory. "I remember that."

"Africa

"I think there's still a video of us doing the dance we did somewhere in the house."

"The song's like, 100 years old and I have it on my iPod. And I wonder why Izzie makes fun of my iPod selections..." Sammy trails off. During his inner contemplation, Sammy's plastic fork finds its way into the half-eaten slice of cake. "This is good."

"You know what Uncle Dan got on it?"

Sammy shakes his head.

Cassie has to stop herself from laughing as she's saying it. "Uncle Dan put a unicorn on Dad's funeral cake."

"You're kidding me? A unicorn?"

"No. And yes."

And somehow – they're not exactly sure how – the siblings are in fits of laughter. Too much laughter to be considered appropriate for the time, place and situation they're in. But they're laughing unapologetically because they both realise that somewhere buried in the grief and anguish they're feeling right now are all the memories they have of Dad and the things that made Dad _Dad _are still there, somewhere. Like the way he would narrate his life in his head, and the games he'd play with Turk like _Find the Saltine_ and the stories he'd make up about Dr Acula to tell Sammy and Cassie when they were kids.

"Dad was such a dork," Cassie says as the laughter subsides.

"Yeah," Sammy responds with the last remnants of a chuckle. But the chuckle in his throat quickly turns into held back tears. "I'm really going to miss him."

"Me too," Cassie says, putting her hand on her brother's arm, her own tears falling once again.

They sit there for a few more minutes and, eventually, the silence becomes too much.

"Do you think we should go back into the hall?" Sammy asks his sister.

"Probably. Otherwise they'll send out a search party for us. By the way," Cassie says as they both stand up. "When I left, Turk was trying to convince everybody to go to the bar they used to frequent when they were our around the corner and buy appletinis."

Sammy rolls his eyes at his father-in-law's suggestion, then says, "I'm up for it if you are."

Cassie shrugs. "I was planning on being hungover tomorrow anyway," Cassie replies, dusting some stray strands of grass off of her black dress. "I guess I can achieve that on appletinis instead of the bottle of Jack Daniels that's in my suitcase."

The older sibling chuckles, as the two of them begin to walk back up the hill.

"Do you think we're going to be okay?" Sammy quietly asks as they arrive at the door of the hall.

Cassie frowns. "I hope so."

* * *

**AN2: Don't hate me...**


	7. Chapter 7

**AN: Hey guys! Thank you for all the great reviews you left me for the last chapter! It made me sad too, but I didn't feel that story would be complete without that chapter. I promise this - the penultimate chapter - contains much less angst.**

**I hope you enjoy this chapter.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

* * *

Cassie met Aiden Gray the first day of her internship. He was a surgical intern checking his pager while walking out of the elevator. She was the ER intern about to walk into the same elevator, reading charts and not looking where she was going.

It doesn't take a genius to figure out what happened next.

The charts and notes scattered across the hospital corridor, losing their order. Cassie knelt down quickly to pick them up. "Frick frickety frick frick," she uttered, trying to scoop up all the papers that had gone flying.

A bundle of them appeared under her eye line but off the ground, and Cassie realised she hadn't yet acknowledged who she'd run in to. She glanced up, pushing her glasses back up her nose. "Thanks," Cassie said, taking the papers from the guy. "Guess I should look where I'm going," she added as she rose to her feet.

"Same here. I'm really going to have to get the hang of checking my pager and walking simultaneously," he answered. "Otherwise I'm going to be knocking down more people. And I'm guessing that'd hurt both of us and I really want to avoid that."

The guy – clad in green scrubs – had brown hair that was slightly lighter than her own, and deep brown eyes to go with it.

"First day too?" Cassie asked him.

"Yep." He held out a hand for her to hold. "Aiden Gray. Surgery."

"Cassie Dorian," she replied, shaking his hand. "ER."

"Well, Cassie, good Iuck," Aiden said. "I'm sure we'll see each other around."

Cassie nodded. "I'm sure we will."

Aiden began to walk away, but paused. "Frick frickety frick frick?"

"Don't ask."

Thirty-six hours later, Cassie stood in the elevator that was lowering itself through the hospital floor. As she looked down at her cell phone, the robotic voice of the elevator told its sole passenger '_Third Floor. Doors opening."_"Told you we'd see each other around."

Cassie looked up and smiled at the familiar face of Aiden Gray. "How was the first shift?"

"Horrifying," he answered. "Never been more scared in my entire life. Yours?"

"Pretty much the same. Quick question: Why do people think that barbecuing drunk is a good idea?"

"I'm not sure," Aiden responded. "Why do people think doing _anything_ drunk is a good idea?"

"It's a good point."

"Can I ask you something?" Aiden said. "After today, are you wondering what the hell possessed you to go into medicine?"

Cassie nodded. "A little bit, yeah."

"Good. I'm not the only one."

Then Cassie surprised even herself. "You want to get a coffee and talk about all the other much easier careers we were too stupid to consider?"

"Definitely."

Coffee to rant about a first day turned into a regular coffee date which eventually turned into a dinner date which turned into officially dating which turned into a serious relationship which lead to them moving into together three months ago, two and a half years after they first met.

* * *

Sammy's in the apartment alone on account of Cassie dragging Izzie shopping with her. Cassie and Aiden's apartment isn't completely decorated yet, and Cassie needed someone to give her a second opinion while Aiden's away golfing with his buddies.

"Why didn't you ask me to go shopping with you?" Sammy had asked Cassie, but it was Izzie who answered.

"Honey, when we were shopping for apartment things, you got so bored you suggested we put patio furniture in the living room."

"True," Sammy conceded. "Buy hey, you'd get bored too if you'd spent all day going around furniture stores."

"It had been an hour and a half."

Cassie had laughed sardonically. "Burned!"

That was two hours ago, and Sammy wonders how many jokes about patio furniture have been made by now.

Having just sat down in the living room accompanied by a glass of water and a medical journal – it's his day off and he's still thinking about work – Sammy is surprised (and slightly annoyed) when he has to get up to answer the ringing apartment intercom.

"Hello?"

"Hey, it's Aiden."

Now Sammy's confused. "Come on up."

Half a minute later, Aiden Gray enters the apartment.

"Cassie told me you were away golfing."

"That was a cover," Aiden answers, running a nervous hand through his hair.

Sammy furrows his brows suspiciously. "Admitting that you're lying to your girlfriend to her brother? Not a good idea."

"Well, I couldn't tell her what I'm really doing?"

"What _are_ you really doing?"

"Talking to you."

Sammy notices again how unusually fidgety Aiden appears. "Okay... So have you killed someone and need help disposing the body or are you going to ask me to marry you?"

"No," Aiden answers, "but I was hoping for your permission to ask your sister."

Sammy recoils, too stunned to say anything for a second. "Excuse me?"

"I said I'm here to ask your permission to ask Cassie to marry me."

"Why are you asking me?"

"Because I never got to meet your father, and you and Cassie are so close. She looks up to you so much and you're so protective of her. It doesn't seem right for me to propose to her without asking your permission first."

Sammy stares at him, hard. Aiden looks terrified. But Sammy knows that Aiden genuinely loves Cassie, and Cassie loves him. They're like two sides of the same coin.

"You have my permission," Sammy eventually answers. "But I swear to god, you do _anything_ to hurt my sister and I will rip you into so many shreds that they won't even be able to identify you through dental records."

"Thanks for the warning, but I'm not going to hurt her."

"You better not."

* * *

Cassie's wedding is in four months. She's up beyond her head in flower arrangements and cakes and bridesmaids dresses and menus. To be honest, the whole thing is giving her an aneurism, which is why she's now at Sammy and Izzie's apartment. She just needs a break."Oh my god, Mom freaked me out earlier," Cassie tells her brother as he hands her a bottle of beer.

"How come?"

"Well, when the florist called to double check what kind of flowers we were having, she was perfectly calm and composed. When I got off the phone all of five minutes and 17 seconds later, she was bawling her eyes out because Dad isn't here to see me get married. Which of course set me right off."

Sammy frowns at her. "I can imagine."

"I just... I completely understand that she's finding it difficult and she's really emotional but... sometimes it's really difficult to be excited." Cassie sips at her beer. "Is that awful?"

"No," Sammy responds, still frowning. "Anything we do now is going to be difficult. We're always going to miss Dad."

"Yeah," Cassie sighs. "You know, I feel like I've not spoken about anything other than this freaking wedding for months. Please give me something else to think about."

"Work?"

Cassie looks almost offended. "Noooo."

"Want to vent your frustrations by shooting video game bad guys?"

"Hell yes."

A few hours, many dead video game baddies and several facetious comments from Izzie about two grown doctors spending their day off playing video games later, Cassie eventually decides that it's time to get back to reality.

"Oh before I go, can I ask you a massive favour?" Cassie says to Sammy.

"Sure."

"Would you give me away at my wedding?"

Sammy recoils, too shocked to give Cassie an immediate answer. "You... you want me to give you away at your wedding?"

"Yeah," Cassie answers.

"Me?"

"Who else did you think I was going to ask?"

Sammy shrugs nervously. "I don't know."

"So... will you?"

"It would be an honour." Sammy hugs his sister.

"Thank you," she replies.

* * *

Sammy's shattered, and he has to be up at six to get ready for – he can barely believe it – Cassie's wedding. She's getting married in 13 hours and he doesn't think she'll appreciate it if he crashes out during her wedding, so he better get some sleep.

The next thing Sammy's aware of is the loud, repeated, quick-fire thumping on his bedroom door. He mumbles incoherently, still confused by sleepiness.

Upon opening his bedroom door, he's greeted by a frazzle-haired, wide-eyed Cassie.

"I'll be Dorian Gray," she blurts out before Sammy has a chance to formulate a lucid greeting.

"What the hell?"

"My surname: Dorian. Aiden's surname: Gray."

"Still confused."

"Put them together: Dorian Gray. Who the hell is called Dorian freaking Gray?"

"I'm taking you downstairs," Sammy says. "Because clearly you're freaking out."

"No, really?" Cassie snaps, as her brother drags her by the arm down the stairs they both used to slide down as kids. "Wouldn't you be if you were about to confine yourself to a life of being ridiculed because your surname is a sadistic, narcissistic, murderous character from an Oscar Wilde novel?"

Sammy leads Cassie to the kitchen and flicks on the kettle. "I thought you were keeping your own name?" He pulls two mugs from the mug holder and begins making tea.

"I was, but who the hell has a different surname from their husband?"

"Carla? Izzie?"

"Well played," Cassie resigns as she sits down at the table. "But still. I don't want to give up my name, but I don't want to be called Dorian Gray either. So what the freaking hell am I doing?"

"You're freaking out over nothing is what you're doing. Look. Has Aiden once mentioned anything about you taking his surname since you told him you wanted to keep your own name?"

Cassie shakes her head.

"Riiiight. And what did he say when you told him you didn't want to take his surname?"

After thinking for a few seconds, Cassie answers. "That he hadn't expected me to anyway." She looks down at the cup of tea Sammy just placed in front of her.

"Exactly. Cass, he doesn't give a flying toss what your name is. You could be called Princess Consuela Bananahammock for all he cares. He loves you. Something as benign as a name isn't going to change that."

Cassie nods slightly, but doesn't look up. "You know what's really freaking me out? The fact that I'm freaking out," she tells Sammy, her eyes still focused on her tea cup. "If I was sure about marrying him, I wouldn't be freaking out, right?"

"You could not be more wrong if you tried right now."

That makes Cassie look up.

"Of course you're going to freak out," Sammy says to her. "You're about to make the biggest commitment of your life. I'd be more worried if you weren't freaking out."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Seriously, everybody freaks out. I freaked out so much before Izzie and I got married that two things happened. One: I convinced myself that Turk was out to get me with a scalpel. And two: At about one in the morning I was searching the internet trying to prove that Izzie and I were related."

Cassie incredulously stares at him, right eyebrow raised. "You really did that?"

"Yep."

"That's insane."

"Exactly. Cassie, you're going to fine," Sammy tells her, in the same reassuring tone he used when she was freaking out about starting college and medical school. "And after tomorrow you'll be wondering what the hell you were even freaking out about. Trust me."

She nods and both of them are silent for a few minutes, sipping at their burning drinks.

"You should really get some sleep," Sammy says, when he notices that Cassie's mug is now empty. "You're getting married tomorrow. Right?"

Cassie smiles. "Yeah." She gets up and hugs her brother before walking towards the door. "One more thing. Does Iz know about your internet search?"

"Nope. Don't tell her."

"I won't. Thank you, Sammy."

"No problem, sis," he smiles back at her. "I'll see you in the morning."


	8. Chapter 8

**AN: So, as I'm writing the final opening AN for Big Brother Sammy (*sniff*), I make it 8.47am. I have a full day of studying ahead of me, but I'm uploading this first. I had this chapter completed before I had the previous one completed and I've just been itching to get to today to upload it.**

**This is the last chapter. I hope you enjoy it. Thanks for all the feedback you've been giving me for this whole story. I've really appreciated it. Thanks guys!**

**One last disclaimer: I own nothing.**

* * *

Cassie's done this a thousand times before. She parks her car in the staff car park, and grabs the almost-empty Coffee Bucks cup from the cup holder as she swings out of the car. Far too many occasions of running late for 6am starts have taught her the technique of not spilling the coffee as she rushes out the car. It's also taught her the technique of walking across roads while swigging from her coffee cup and not getting hit by cars or ambulances.

The ER's busy, as it normally is. Walking by, Cassie nods hello to the nurse on the phone at the front desk. She heads along the main corridor, intending to visit her other colleagues. But one of them meets her on the way.

Dr Addison watches as Cassie walks down the corridor. His hand is resting on his hip in some diva-esque pose. "Please, dear _God_, tell me you haven't come in to work just to mock the rest of us because you have the day off," he says. "Because that's just pathetic and, Dr Dorian, we're going to have to mock you forever."

Cassie rolls her eyes at her ever joking fellow resident. "Well, Dr Addison, sorry to disappoint you and the rest of the department. I'm actually in to visit someone. Getting to make fun of you lot for being stuck working in this hell hole is just an added bonus."

Dr Addison walks towards one of the patient cubicles, giving Cassie an exaggerated glare as he goes.

If Cassie's honest with herself, the banter between all the staff is one of the main reasons she loves working here. She spends the next few minutes checking in with the other staff (and calling to cardiology to check the status of a patient she admitted last shift) before she exits the department, heading towards the elevators and up to the fourth floor.

* * *

Sammy Dorian is knackered. He hasn't slept in two days.

The ward he's spent those two days in is painted differently from the sterile white-ish grey of the rest of the hospital. The placid yellow is supposed to be more welcoming to families, supposed to elicit joy and happiness in this, the most hopeful of hospital wards.

He walks along the corridor, and it seems that everything is happening at a distance. He's _that_ tired. But he knows exactly where he's going – he's done this route several times since 2am today. There seems to be an eternity between 1.59 and 2.01.

When Sammy arrives at his destination, Cassie's already standing there looking in through the window. He walks up to her slowly, but she doesn't hear him approaching.

"How's it going, Aunt Cassie?"

The sudden voice makes Cassie jump, but her new title makes her laugh. "He's gorgeous," she says, pointing to a crib three rows in. Sleeping in it is a tiny baby with a surprising mass of black fluffy hair and his mother's coffee complexion.

"Yeah," Sammy responds amazingly, looking down at his newborn son.

"How's Izzie?"

"Exhausted. She's sleeping just now." He stifles a yawn. Just the topic of sleep makes Sammy realise how tired he is himself. "I'm going to go home for a couple of hours too. Try to get some sleep while Izzie's sleeping and before he gets home. I need to get some things for Izzie anyway."

"You want a lift?"

"Please," Sammy answers. Another yawn. "Hey, you want to go in and meet your nephew?"

"Are you kidding? Of course I want to meet him," Cassie says. "In fact, if I didn't get to meet him I'd probably cry all the way home. Scratch that. I _will_ cry all the way home. And some more when I _get_ home."

Sammy rolls his eyes at his sister. "Come on then."

* * *

The nursery is quiet, save for the faint mumblings of babies.

"You ever wonder if babies have their own secret language that only they understand?" Cassie asks.

Sammy muses, a strange feeling of déjà vu seeping into his consciousness. "Yeah, actually." He leans over the crib and picks up the baby. "Hey," Sammy says to the baby boy, tiny little thing. "You wanna meet your Aunt Cassie? You should. She's pretty awesome." Sammy turns his head towards Cassie. "You want to hold him?"

"Dude, why do you keep asking stupid questions?"

Sammy rolls his eyes as he hands the baby carefully over to his sister.

"Hey, Little Guy," Cassie says in her child-friendly voice. "I'm your Aunt Cassie. You're so cute. Hey, when you want gum or candy or chocolate or something else your parents won't let you have, you come and visit me, okay?"

"Thanks, Cass," Sammy responds exasperatedly.

Cassie flashes a sarcastic grin. "No problem. You know, Little Guy," she says, once again addressing the baby, "your dad hasn't told me if he and your mom have picked out a name for you yet."

"We did," Sammy answers, rocking on his heels just slightly. "It's Jonathan Dorian. JD for short."

Cassie looks up from the baby to her brother. The expression on her face is unreadable, something Sammy hasn't seen before. "You named him after Dad?" She asks quietly, tears beginning to sting her eyes.

"Yeah," Sammy answers. "We decided we were going to months ago, but never told anyone. What do you think?"

"I think Dad would be so proud he'd be passed out in the corner," Cassie quips. Once the initial surprise wears off, Cassie looks back down at the baby. "Hi, Jonathan. Holy moly, Sam, you're a Dad. I can't believe it. Can you?"

Sammy sighs heavily. "No."

* * *

The roads are quiet as Cassie drives Sammy back to his and Izzie's house. Well, his, Izzie and Jonathan's house now.

"One question," Cassie says, not averting her eyes from the road ahead. "Now that you're a father and I'm an aunt and we both got married, does that mean we have to be responsible adults now?"

"I think so," Sammy says, amidst a yawn.

"Wow. I miss being an irresponsible adult."

"Tell me about it. You remember when we were kids and we use to sit in Dad's car belting out _Don 't Stop Believin'?"_"Of course," Cassie chuckles.

"Did you ever think then that we'd end up here?"

"No," she answers. "But, to be fair, I was seven. My thoughts then rarely extended past dinner time."

The conversation stops there. Out of the corner of her eye, Cassie can see Sammy drifting off to sleep.

"He looks like Dad," Cassie whispers.

"I know."

* * *

**AN2: Thanks guys. It's been a blast! :)**


End file.
